The Scarlet Grove did not release them easily.
Even after the titan's fall, the mist clung to the edges of the ruin as if reluctant to surrender its prey. Each step toward the surface was heavy, the weight of unseen eyes pressing on Arlen's back. But the further they walked, the less oppressive it became.
By the time they crossed the archway and stepped once more beneath the open canopy, dawn had broken fully. Sunlight speared through the crimson boughs, cutting the mist to tatters. For the first time since entering, Arlen breathed fresh air without tasting iron on his tongue.
He collapsed onto the grass just beyond the grove's border, lying flat and staring up at the pale morning sky. His staff lay across his chest, Emberflame flickering weakly at the tip like a candle on the verge of dying.
Liora sat beside him, equally exhausted but far more composed. She sheathed her sword and let silence stretch between them, broken only by the sound of their breaths.
Finally, Arlen spoke, voice hoarse. "We made it."
Her lips twitched into a small smile. "We did. And you're still alive. That's something."
He turned his head to look at her, narrowing his eyes playfully. "You sound almost surprised."
"I am," she admitted, without hesitation. "You're reckless, too quick to throw yourself at impossible odds. But you have a fire that refuses to die. I can't ignore that."
Arlen felt heat creep into his face, though whether from her words or the lingering strain of his mana loss, he wasn't sure.
Before he could reply, the system interrupted.
> Quest Complete: Survive 24 Hours in the Scarlet Grove.
Reward Delivered: Item – Scarlet Grove Key Fragment.
A shard of crimson crystal materialized in his hand, its surface faintly glowing with both corruption and purified light. It pulsed once, then settled, waiting.
Arlen frowned. "A key fragment? For what?"
Liora studied it carefully. "Keys are never simple. They unlock doors—sometimes literal, sometimes not. Keep it close. Whatever it belongs to, the grove gave it to you for a reason."
Arlen tucked the shard away, unease curling in his stomach.
The forest around them stirred with new sounds—birdsong, rustling leaves, the ordinary life of nature returning. Yet beneath it all lingered a subtle shift, as if the world itself had noticed what they had done.
And indeed, far beyond the grove's borders, others had noticed.
---
In a distant tower of black stone, overlooking the fractured plains, a woman cloaked in silver runes opened her eyes. The scrying crystal before her pulsed with crimson light before shattering in her hands.
"So… someone touched the Grove's heart," she murmured, her voice both curious and sharp. "After centuries of silence."
Her lips curved into a smile that did not reach her eyes. "This changes everything."
---
Back at the grove's edge, Arlen forced himself upright, leaning heavily on his staff. His body screamed for rest, but his mind churned with questions. Why had the grove chosen him? Why his fire? And what path lay ahead now that he had survived what should have killed him?
Liora rose as well, brushing leaves from her armor. She glanced toward the horizon, where a road stretched faintly toward the kingdom's outer towns.
"Come," she said simply. "We've lingered long enough. There will be eyes on this place soon, and not all of them friendly."
Arlen nodded, determination settling in his chest. He took one last look at the grove, its scarlet mist slowly retreating under the weight of dawn, then turned his back on it.
The first trial was over.
The echoes of it were only beginning.
The road back to civilization felt longer than their march into the Scarlet Grove.
Arlen leaned on his staff, step after step, his body stiff with exhaustion. The key fragment weighed heavily in his pouch, though it was no bigger than a shard of glass. It throbbed faintly with heat whenever he brushed against it, as though reminding him of its existence.
Liora walked beside him in silence. She moved with steady grace, but her gaze never rested. Every rustle in the trees, every shifting shadow along the roadside, she measured with a warrior's caution.
Finally, Arlen broke the quiet. "Do you think anyone else knows?"
"About the grove?" she asked.
He nodded.
Her eyes flicked toward him. "Of course. Places like that don't go quiet for centuries without reason. The moment something changes, it resonates. Scholars, warlocks, kings, even the vermin hiding in dungeons—someone always notices."
Arlen's stomach sank. "And what happens if they find us before we're ready?"
"Then we run," Liora said simply. "Until you're strong enough to stop running."
He gave a humorless laugh. "Not much of a plan."
"It's the only plan that works," she replied, though her voice was softer than her words.
---
By dusk, the road widened, and the silhouette of a town rose against the horizon. High palisades of timber surrounded it, and torches burned at the gates, marking a settlement larger than Arlen had ever seen.
"Silverkeep," Liora said, nodding toward it. "A frontier town. Traders, mercenaries, adventurers. The kind of place where news spreads faster than fire."
Arlen swallowed, nerves pricking. He had spent most of his life in a nameless village that no longer existed. The thought of stepping into a place buzzing with strangers filled him with both excitement and dread.
As they approached the gates, guards in chainmail eyed them carefully. One stepped forward, spear in hand. "State your business."
Liora answered smoothly, "Passing through. We've been traveling from the northern woods."
The guard's eyes lingered on Arlen, his torn clothes, the staff still glowing faintly with emberlight. "And him?"
"A novice mage," Liora said before Arlen could speak. "My responsibility."
The guard grunted but stepped aside, waving them through.
---
The town swallowed them whole. Streets lined with wooden buildings bustled with life: hawkers shouting over stalls of dried meat and herbs, smiths hammering sparks into the dusk, mercenaries boasting loudly at tavern doors. The scents of smoke, ale, and sweat mingled thick in the air.
Arlen's eyes widened at it all, his head turning this way and that. The sheer noise was overwhelming compared to the silence of the grove—or the emptiness of his destroyed village.
"You'll get used to it," Liora said, her lips quirking faintly at his awe.
Before Arlen could reply, the system chimed.
> Quest Update: Step into Silverkeep.
Optional Task Generated: Seek knowledge at the Guildhall.
Reward: ???
Arlen nearly stumbled at the sudden appearance of text. "Guildhall?"
"Every town worth its salt has one," Liora explained. "It's where adventurers register, share quests, and gather coin. For someone like you, it's also the best place to learn about the wider world."
Arlen tightened his grip on the staff. "And the worst place for word of the grove to spread."
"Exactly," she agreed. "Which is why we'll tread carefully."
---
Elsewhere in Silverkeep, careful eyes were already watching.
In a corner tavern, cloaked figures whispered over a map marked with crimson sigils. In the Guildhall itself, a crystal orb pulsed faintly, recording unseen ripples in the flow of magic. And in a forgotten alley, a beggar with clouded eyes murmured to himself, "The flame has awakened. The grove sings again."
The town had many ears, and none of them deaf to change.
---
That night, as they settled into a modest inn at the edge of Silverkeep, Arlen sat at the small wooden table by their window. The shard of crimson crystal lay before him, glowing faintly in the candlelight.
He touched it gingerly. At once, images surged into his mind—ruined spires, broken chains, doors sealed by magic older than kingdoms. His breath caught, his hand jerking back.
Liora looked up from polishing her sword. "What happened?"
Arlen swallowed hard. "I think… the shard is calling me."
And for the first time since the grove, he wondered if his survival was not a blessing, but the start of something much larger—and far more dangerous.
The Guildhall loomed at the heart of Silverkeep like a fortress among homes. Its great doors were carved with runes of protection, its windows glowing with steady lamplight. Banners hung from its walls—crest of the Adventurer's Union, crossed blades over a rising sun.
Arlen paused at the steps, suddenly aware of the hum of energy thrumming beneath the building, like the pulse of a living heart.
Liora nudged him forward. "Don't stare too long. Walk in like you belong."
Inside, the hall buzzed with voices and clamor. Adventurers crowded long wooden tables, laughing, boasting, arguing over maps. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meat and spilled ale. At the far wall, a massive quest board stretched from floor to ceiling, covered in parchment notices: requests for monster hunts, escort work, even mundane labor.
Arlen's eyes darted everywhere at once. Compared to his burned village, this place felt like another world—alive, dangerous, unyielding.
At the counter, a clerk in uniform robes glanced up as they approached. "New faces. Looking to register?"
Liora inclined her head. "Yes. One novice, under my guidance." She gestured toward Arlen.
The clerk's eyes settled on him, sharp and assessing. "Name?"
Arlen hesitated, then said clearly, "Arlen Ashbourne."
The clerk scribbled it down. "Any prior experience?"
His throat tightened. "I… survived the Scarlet Grove."
The pen stopped mid-scratch. The hall seemed to hush, as if the very words carried weight. Heads turned. A nearby mercenary laughed harshly.
"Scarlet Grove? You expect us to believe that? A whelp like you?"
Arlen stiffened, but before he could reply, the system intervened.
> Hidden Achievement Unlocked: Survivor of the Scarlet Grove.
Recognition Level: Notoriety (Regional).
New Quest Generated: With Recognition Comes Rivalry.
A ripple of whispers spread across the hall. The mercenary who had mocked him sneered, standing. His bulk cast a shadow across Arlen. "If you really walked out of that cursed forest, prove it."
Liora shifted, hand on her hilt, but Arlen stepped forward first. He lifted his staff. Emberflame ignited at the tip—not a flicker, but a steady, burning light, scarlet-gold and unyielding.
The mercenary's smirk faltered.
Silence pressed down for a moment, then broke into low mutters. Some eyes turned hostile, others curious. Not all believed—but enough had seen something that made them hesitate.
The clerk cleared his throat, scratching quickly on the parchment. "Registration complete. Rank: F-Class Initiate." He slid a small bronze badge across the counter. "Welcome to the Guild, Arlen Ashbourne."
Arlen took the badge with a trembling hand. It was light as a feather, yet felt heavier than stone.
---
That night, when they returned to the inn, the system chimed again.
> Questline Update: The Crimson Key Fragment responds to Silverkeep.
Sub-Quest Activated: Unlock the Sealed Door beneath the Guildhall.
Reward: ???
Arlen's breath caught. He stared at the message, then at the fragment glowing faintly in his pouch.
The shard was no ordinary prize. It was a summons.
And the Guildhall itself was part of the path ahead.